Learning to Break Glass Butterflies
by Poli Almasy
Summary: An enchanted diary passed among several characters just prior to the begining of the Second War, no one really has a clear understanding of those who they hold most dear. Includes yaoi, yuri and het pairings.
1. First Entries

Title: Learning to Break Glass Butterflies  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: ::takes deep breath:: sbxrl, owxpw, hpxrw, rwxhp, vkxhg, dm+rw, hp+dm, hg+vw, dmxvw, ssxrl, sb+ss, ss+hg and for the hell of it and cheap sex dmxnl and for audi llxtb  
Comment: I don't know what the fuck kind of drugs I'm on sometimes. As always I start out with a title and go from there. Originally this was the title of an original yuri story I started to write. Hated the story, loved the title. Yay for recycling. Switching povs.  
  
--  
  
Remus Lupin : First Entry : Introduction and the Inner Core  
  
Sometimes you just want to break yourself because you feel like there is no way out. No way to escape and go on living your life. Other times, you don't just feel it, you know it. I've known it since I was eleven years old. Of course I suffered from lycanthropy for several years before that. But you don't think really about dying until you realize you're leaving someone behind. No surprise then that at sixteen I felt like the earth was imploding around me. At twenty-one suddenly I didn't feel so trapped into life. The next logical step would have been my death. At twenty-one James, Lily and Peter were dead, Sirius was as good as. My four best friends were taken from me in a matter of days. We were complete and in an instant the Marauders were no more. Our ashes sacrificed to the winds of fate.   
  
At thirty-three the pain started all over again. Peter was alive, it was Peter who betrayed us. He didn't just betray James and Lily, he betrayed us all. And Sirius, my Sirius was innocent. He was ripped from me for twelve years and then suddenly thrust back into my life. I didn't think I could hold on any longer, it hurt so much to be cared for again. Now here he is, laying fast asleep on my couch as Padfoot, my head resting on his stomach as if it were a pillow. For him the change is unnatural and welcomed. My change is organic and despised. We are so many contradictions all at once.  
  
We decided it would be safer that when he slept he was always in the shape of Padfoot. If someone were to break in as we slept, he would be hidden from them even in slumber. I actually hated the idea, but it was logical. It wouldn't be fair to risk his safety now just because I wanted him to hold me. Hell, it was selfish of me to want anything from him now. He came back a changed man and with good reason. But still it hurt like hell.  
  
Harry is staying with us a bit over the summer as well. He sleeps in the spare bedroom and every once in awhile Ron has come over to spend the night. Actually, more then every once in awhile, but we don't particularly keep track. He's nearly seventeen now, just about ready to embark on his final year at Hogwarts. I suppose we're something like an adoptive family to Harry. And to a lesser extent Ron and Hermione as well. Ron's mother died during their fifth year. It was so unexpected. Arthur didn't know how to handle things without her around and he was always busy at the ministry with the war drawing ever closer.   
  
Percy is the unofficial head of the Burrow now. He keeps everything in working order. Ron has also mentioned that Oliver Wood now lives in their house as well. Sirius and I weren't particularly surprised by that. I knew both boys just long enough to suspect something. I'm simply surprised he didn't tell us that himself. Percy is of course busy with ministry work as well, but when it came down to his family or the war, he picked his family. Sometimes outside appearances aren't everything.   
  
Hermione hasn't been able to visit her family for two years now. She writes to them of course, but she hasn't seen them. Last year she took her N.E.W.T.s early so she could graduate from Hogwarts. While she nearly killed herself in the process of studying she did manage to graduate at the top of the class she wasn't even in. She still lives at Hogwarts however, but she is able to focus on the war effort rather then going to classes on subjects she has already mastered. And it is also worth mentioning that she is still involved with Viktor. He's exceptionally good for her. I know she fancied Ron for a bit, he may have even fancied her but they would simply drag each other down. Harry and Ron are dragging each other down as we speak and they don't even realize it.  
  
I should mention exactly what this is, well, it's intended as a traveling diary of sorts. Several of us decided upon making it a few weeks ago. Something to record the calm before the storm as it were. The last few months before the war. I have taken it upon myself to set some background for those to be reading it. Others will certainly clarify what I have said here as I certainly do not know everything. This diary will be passed between myself, Sirius Black, Percy Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley. Each entry is locked after it is written so the others will have no idea what I have written in my introduction.  
  
There is so much to be explained before I actually begin. I suppose the key point would be why Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco will eventually lead to each other's undoing. But to understand that, it is important to understand the inheritance of magic.  
  
Magic is passed through genes as a recessive trait. That is to say, if one is a witch or a wizard they carry two recessive alleles for the magic trait. Muggle-borns come from parents who are carriers. When a witch and a wizard have children, short of a mutation they will always show the magic trait. Half-bloods arise between a witch or a wizard and a carrier Muggle. I realize this is all rather boring but one needs a basic understanding of magic genetics in order to understand the rest of what is about to be explained.  
  
There are three wizarding families known collectively as the 'Core.' Most wizards are unaware of the existence of the Core and even members of the families are unaware of who they are. Dumbledore and myself are two of the very few who know who they are. It is my task to protect what will perhaps be the final generation of the so called Inner Core. Nearly any witch or wizard has some blood from the Core families within them, the Inner Core however consists of those whom both of their recessive alleles derive directly from the original Core families. Not just part of their overall genetic makeup, the genes responsible for their magic abilities. Not since the Core families first came into existence has there been such a concentrated population of the Inner Core.   
  
Each one of the Core families is assigned to one of the three primary elements of fire, earth, and air. The element commonly known as water actually falls under the domain of all three. This is a point I do not fully understand yet.  
  
The most pure-breeding of the three families is rather obviously the Weasley's. This, the fire line has been nicknamed Rousseau. Only through various incestuous relationships have they been able to keep such a high degree of Inner Core offspring present. I suppose that now would be the best time to mention that in order to produce an Inner Core member there must be some degree of inbreeding for two of these alleles to come together. In many cases though generations separate the relatives and they themselves do not know. This is not the case in the Rousseau line, but they have no idea why the inbreeding began in their family but it has continued for generations. However, Molly and Arthur each only carried one allele from the direct line. Therefore all of their children are not members of the Inner Core. It has been determined that Percy, Ron, and Ginny Weasley are members of the Inner Core.  
  
The second line, nicknamed More has not had an Inner Core member for the last hundred years. Despite many of their carriers wanting to create 'pure-blood' lines they have generally failed to produce an Inner Core member. Of course that is how it should be, but I'll delve more into that later on. Perhaps it was just bad luck because there certainly would be enough carriers of the line to produce offspring more often. More is the family of the air elemental. It is rather ironic however that while two Inner Core members of the More line have been produced this generation, one of them managed to come from a Muggle cross. It just goes to show that nothing is predictable in predicting magic genetics. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are members of the Inner Core.  
  
The final Core family is referred to as Machiavelli, and it goes without saying that the sole Inner Core member of this line is Harry Potter. Again, a case of the allele being passed through Muggle blood and finally rejoining the Wizard world. Lily Potter was a member of the Inner Core as well, another Muggle born with the highest powers imaginable. And she didn't even know it.  
  
None of them can know it. If they knew not only would they be in danger, they would seek to destroy each other. My job is simply to protect them in case a time comes when they are needed. As they are not needed at this time I will not explain the purpous of the Inner Core.  
  
Sirius has changed back into himself below me and has slyly wrapped his arms around my midsection. I don't know how I survived wanting to be whole.  
  
--  
  
Sirius Black : First Entry : Why Life without War is the Life Worth Living  
  
Moony wasn't kidding when he said that all entries would be locked the moment your thoughts broke away from the diary. He wouldn't let me read a word he wrote in here and now the blasted thing is attached to my mind until I complete my entry and pass it right back along to Percy Weasley. It's rather silly that we can't read each other's entries. How am I supposed to know what to write in here anyway? For all I know Remus has either written sappy love poetry to Snape (yes I know about, and have forgiven that little affair) the plans for the entire War or "today for breakfast I had two pickles and a glass of milk" (I'm not lying about that one either.) So I suppose there won't be a whole lot of continuity between these entries. Never the less.  
  
I must say, life is worth living simply because you have people to share your life with. Every day I wake up, well, then first I have to change back into myself, but then I wake up next to the man I've loved so desperately for nearly twenty years. The man I was separated from for twelve. I've left a little space between us for the time being though. I don't want to rush back in to anything without first knowing Moony wants it.  
  
Then there is Harry, he really is like a son to me now. Every day he reminds me a little bit more of James and Lily. Oh he looks just like James but he is also distinctly Lily. All their best features and all their flaws wrapped up in a boy who is still a little on the slender side. From there I'd venture to say that Ron is a bit like a son-in-law as weird as it seems to say that. I know for a fact that James and Lily would want nothing more then for their son to be happy, and who am I to stop Harry from pursuing a relationship with Ron anyway? I mean, Moony, Wormtail, Prongs and I were all best friends. Even now I cannot deny that Peter was one of my dearest friends. You just don't take something like that back. Yes, he betrayed us. Yes, now I believe he deserves to die for what he has done. But, I will never deny his friendship, I simply cannot. He was one of us and now he is not. Thanks to him there is barely an 'us' left.  
  
But I look forward to every day ahead of us, even if we go to war, I am ready for it.  
  
Now excuse me, Remus and I have other things to attend to.  
  
--  
  
Percy Weasley : First Entry : Oliver the Exhibitionist  
  
Once Oliver learned of the little thought journal a few of us had devised he whispered something suggestive in my ear. He wanted me to record us well, yes. I'll leave it up to the reader to draw the conclusions. So I've been sitting here in the kitchen of the Burrow for the last half hour trying to sort through weather or not to go through with it. After all, the entries will be locked once I am done recording them. The others will never know even if we did record it here.   
  
Well, since I've opened the journal it should be obvious that I have come to my decision. Yes. I mean, it's not as if this was meant to be children's reading in the first place. Although the physical presence of the diary looming over my head is a little offsetting. It really will be like someone is watching us. I think that's the appeal to Oliver.  
  
What I have yet to figure out is how I appeal to Oliver. Or how Oliver appeals to me for that matter. It seemed to happen all at once for no apparent reason. A kiss on the cheek in fifth year, a few scrawled notes over that summer, a cover up using Penny, the sweetest girl I have ever known, it was like one fluid motion from my life to my bed and a far simpler one from my bed to my home. I wasn't sure at first if I really was in love with him, but I trust him, and care for him enough to allow him to live at the Burrow, it must be love, isn't it?  
  
Oh, he's told me so many times that he loves me and I return those sweet words to him. He makes me want to make him happy, he's made me fall in love with the idea of being in love. I want nothing more then to spend the rest of my life with him when he tells me he loves me. That's enough to carry on for now.  
  
Dad's still at the ministry and might be there until tomorrow morning. Part of me wants to be there, feels a duty to be there. But I also have a duty to my family that I do not take lightly. I know where my priorities stand. Now that Mum is gone, I need to be here, the Ministry can wait until I'm damn good and ready. My family comes before my work no matter what it seemed like a few years ago. They didn't need me as much then as they need me now. I need to be here.  
  
Oliver is laying down on the bed going through strategy sheets. It's a little odd for him even still that it's not his strategies he's going over but someone else's. But he still loves what he does more then anything else. He told me once this was like starting over, he was a little second year trying to learn the ropes of the game all over.  
  
"So have you made up your mind?"  
  
He asks bringing is slightly oversized brown eyes up from the parchment sprawled around him. I nod just enough for him to notice and a smile breaks across his face as he starts to arrange the papers on the bedside table. The whole idea still makes me mildly uncomfortable and forced, but there is something devilishly tempting about it. There's something devilishly tempting about him.  
  
Kneeling on the bed he brings his warm lips to my cooler ones. There is such a fire inside him I can't explain. He's warm and kind and childish and mature all at once and I can't help but be drawn into that. He uses his arms next to draw me into him but it is not the last device that will be used tonight to bring us together. I am utterly submissive in bed, I love the idea of completely losing control and having little responsibility for my actions. With Oliver I am the total opposite of what I strive to be in life.   
  
His calloused hands trace patters along my now bare chest and I whimper a little bit in protest. Hands replaced by lips, my lips growing jealous from being ignored. Soon enough they are rewarded and I pull off his shirt and my hands want to touch every part of him. I want to melt out of myself and into him and in this moment I believe I will love him forever. My slender fingers dance along his flesh in predictable patterns while his are more rushed, erratic. He will fly from my grasp if I weren't weighting him down with the depth of my stability. We know each other and we are strangers. I'm in love with someone I still barely know, all I know is we fit, we make up for each others shortcomings.   
  
My mind always wanders like this, always, I may be thinking to a book now but even if I were alone I would think like this. The only different thing is that enchanted book hovering just above our headboard. The headboard bangs against the wall over and over as I bang against it over and over and he bangs into me over and over and then it's just...over.  
  
And here I never wanted it to end.  
  
He burned me like fire and I hardly took notice. I'm just as dull as they say I am lost in my own words and more concerned with books then with life. This displacement was not brought on by you, reader, it was brought on my own accord.  
  
--  
  
Harry Potter : First Entry : Because I Have No One Else to Tell  
  
I think I'm in love. Not the little crushes like Cho, I really think I'm in love. And this has to come at the worst possible time in the worst possible situation doesn't it? But such is my life it would seem. It's not that I want to deny that I'm in love it just feels so right and so wrong at the time. I mean, he's like a brother to me really. Oh sure, Sirius teases me about it on occasion, but he never really means it, does he?  
  
I really should think about more important things, like the Second War and all, that's where my attention should be. Not with silly teenaged fantasies. But I can't help it really. I could blame it on my hormones or on stress or any number of things but it won't make it go away. I mean, and under normal circumstances I'd discuss this with Ron rather then with some silly book like this one. I really shouldn't call you silly now should I? I bet you're the only one who's going to actually read this. You'll absorb all our words and never have to spit them out again. So I suppose it's safe although rather pointless to tell you that I think I'm in love with Ron Weasley. I'm pretty sure Remus introduced us to you in his introduction. You probably know everything about us.  
  
Well, everything that has happened to us externally. Of course he wouldn't be able to put in each person's individual hopes and dreams, right? Oh I wish you could answer me back. Even just a splotch of ink to know you're there. Or maybe you're not really an entity like I suspect. You're just a normal journal aren't you? You can't hear a word of this you just swallow everything up don't you?   
  
Well, right now more then anything I want to know what other's have written to you. Percy had you last I know. Probably mindless dry drabble about parchment tint and cloak lining. I know he means well, but he's so dull sometimes, most of the time, every time he comes within five feet of me. He doesn't understand what it's like to love someone. I don't understand it either.  
  
So I guess the only thing I wanted to say was that I'm going to tell Ron, and if he kills me, well then, having the 'boy-who-lived' killed off by his best friend after admitting that he did indeed not only fancy boys but fancied him. Well that would be rather ironic, wouldn't it?  
  
--  
  
Hermione Granger : First Entry : I'm Human Too  
  
I know I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't have these things written anywhere, but if I don't tell someone I'm going to go mad. Since graduating last year I've been working with Snape, one of my old Hogwarts professors along with Neville Longbottom in the development of a new potion. Neville has been working on raising the plants needed along with Professor Sprout. She's old and we feared she wouldn't live to see the war, so rather then burden her with the details of the task at hand, we entrusted the plans to Neville. Poor Neville, I already see the strain pulling at him. He's quite gifted really, well, with plants at least. It's almost ironic, two young Gryffindor's working along side the head of the Slytherin house. But he can't deny that we are the most qualified for the job.  
  
Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Once plans for the Second War began after my fourth year, Professor Snape was sent to infiltrate the Death Eaters once more. Terribly dangerous work, but he did it so willingly. I have much more respect for Professor Snape now then I ever thought I would. He was also to obtain skin or hair samples from as many of the Death Eaters as possible. The belief was somehow using this genetic material we could cut off as many known Death Eaters as possible before the War even began. The question was how, which is where Neville and I come in.  
  
There was no known potion that could achieve such an effect as we were striving for. During my sixth year I began work, to find possible clues to how to construct such a potion. My gift for research was noticed and rewarded with this assignment. After going over every possible lead in the extensive Hogwarts library I realized I would have to visit other libraries beyond those at Hogwarts and possibly even England. That's when I decided to take my N.E.W.T.s at the end of sixth year. After obtaining permission from Headmaster Dumbledore I temporarily suspended my research into the potion and focused on preparing for the N.E.W.T.s.  
  
Once I graduated I first focused on other libraries in England but after a month of searching I had found nothing. From there I moved on to Durmstrang. Viktor and I had still maintained a close relationship. I generally spent a month with him in Bulgaria each summer and during the off-season he would come on some weekends when I didn't have too much schoolwork. I do care for him deeply. It's a different kind of caring then with Harry and Ron though. From the moment I met them I knew there was just some little thing I could never share with them and as we grow older it becomes more and more apparent. But that's a childish issue that needn't be discussed in this journal. I'm sure the others aren't being nearly as sentimental as I am.  
  
Viktor and I went to the Durmstrang library together and he translated much of what was in the books for me blindly. Never knowing what I was searching for. He would read to me in his deep voice as I scribbled down notes by the dim light in an unfamiliar library. I returned to England with a few leads. Neville was put in charge of growing the plants which I requested. Once they are ready Professor Snape will use what I have found to try and construct the proper potion. Next I am heading to France to search for anything else that may be of use.  
  
I would discuss what is being tried in the potions, but I fear this diary might fall into the wrong hands at a later date. And if so, while they will be unable to change what we are doing now I do not want them to have an advantage in the future.  
  
Well, for just a moment more, I'd like to be sentimental.  
  
Viktor asked me to marry him. Not right away, of course, he knows I'm too young and not quite ready for that yet. But he wants me to think of it over the next few months. I think I will think it over.  
  
--  
  
Draco Malfoy : First Entry : Closed Book  
  
This is a stupid idea, and I don't have to go along with it.  
  
--  
  
Draco Malfoy : First Entry : ...Access Denied  
  
--  
  
Draco Malfoy : First Entry : ...Access Denied  
  
--  
  
Ginny Weasley : First Entry : Winged  
  
I haven't written in a journal since first year. What a horrifying experience that was. Since then I haven't wanted to touch one of those things, especially an enchanted one such as this. But so far you haven't written back, and I do trust Professor Lupin so I suppose I should just go with the moment, right?  
  
Actually, I've developed a liking for poetry over the last few years. Perhaps I should record some of it here. Professor Lupin did say we could put whatever we wished into here. And to have no fear of the others reading it.  
  
Well, here goes nothing.  
  
An ever-playing music box  
Engraved in your heart  
Engraved in your head.  
  
The angel you dare adore  
Lost from your heart  
Lost from your head.  
  
That trinket fail to love  
Placed in your heart  
Destroyed his head.   
  
Follow the death of the rose and allow release  
Follow the death of the soul and allow release  
Follow me to death and forever save your soul  
Follow me into life and forever save your boy  
  
Follower Follower  
Lose your heart  
Lost your head.  
Engrave the box  
Engrave the boy  
Write the name and spare the soul  
Just please never to whom is told  
Spare the boy and break the girl  
Tear my heart the string unfurl  
Snap the wings from my spine  
Draw the blood into the line  
Spare the girl and break the boy  
But you can't he's your toy  
Rip the wings from his pale back  
He's everything you are, you lack  
  
Her blood with dry and his will pour  
But still you are left, wanting more  
  
It's childish and immature I know, but I am a child, and I have yet to mature. Even though I insist on being called Virginia now I'm still just little Ginny to most everyone. It doesn't matter that I'm prefect now (of course, only after Hermione left) but I'm still just little Ginny. The last little Weasley child, last in line.  
  
But I understand so much more now then I did years ago when I began school. I saw things no eleven year old should have seen. I think I understand, better then most people, what made Tom change. He and I shared a lot in common. Oh nothing obvious, but the drive to be recognized then more then just a piece in the puzzle. The desire to be an individual, to go against what people wanted us to be. We understand the human condition.  
  
I'm beyond that stage of childhood crushes as well. Now I lust after others, I desire them. But I have yet to feel love. I lust after Draco Malfoy and I desire Hermione Granger but I do not pursue them. It's hopeless in pursuing them. I'll be left with nothing but broken dreams and a disconnected sense of reality. Chasing them would be like chasing Tom all over again. Even if I found them it would be nothing more then smoke and clever illusions.  
  
I'm like a butterfly, come on and break me.  
  
--  
  
Ron Weasley : First Entry : Why I hate Draco Malfoy  
  
10. He's a prick  
9. He's greasy  
8. I bet he's fucking Snape  
7. He doesn't know the value of friendship  
6. Just because you have moeny doesn't mean you have class  
5. He's a liar  
4. He doesn't understand anyone  
3. He arrives without calling first  
2. He arrives in the first place  
1. Now in the other room, he's talking to Harry  
  
So what if I'm jealous? So what if I'm immature? For whatever reason now that the War is approaching we're supposed to treat him as 'one of us,' I don't buy into it. He's up to something, I know it. I bet this bloody book knows it too, but it's not telling. Probably all it knows is Remus and Sirius' sex life, Percy's work notes, Hermione's equally boring work notes, Draco's equally colorful list about why he hates Harry and I, Ginny's soppy notes about Harry, and Harry's...I don't know. What would Harry write about? Probably the War or something.   
  
I'm being silly, no one else is probably worrying about what the others wrote. Either that or we're all worrying about what's been written. I don't like either case very much.   
  
What I like even less is Draco Malfoy. The way he looks at Harry, how he acts, like a predator going in for the kill. But he'll never chase down Harry. Harry will always win. Merlin, why do I sound like his fucking fan club? I know Harry doesn't think of me as his 'fan club' no he has Ginny and Colin for that. He certainly thinks of me as his friend, his best friend, forever.  
  
I like coming to visit Sirius and Remus. I still find it funny that Hermione refers to them even now as 'Mr. Black' and 'Professor Lupin' she's so formal with them. I mean, we're like their family, I think. They'll never have children, I mean, Merlin, what do I mean. I don't have a problem with them being that way, not at all. And I mean, that wasn't really the topic, was it? What was I going on about now? Oh yes, we're like family to Sirius and Remus, at least I consider them like family to me. Dad just gets more and more distant, ever since Mum died. And then Oliver moved in at the Burrow, I have no idea what that's all about.   
  
The Burrow seems less and less like home with each passing day. The twins spend hours locked away in their room when they're at home which isn't often. Most of the time they're in Hogsmead tending to their little shop, which is slowly but surely gaining momentum. As Sirius said, delinquency never goes out of style. Ginny is an empty shell much like Dad. Mum's death hit her hard too I suppose. She's the only woman left in the house. Well, her and Percy who seems to have taken over the mothering around the Burrow. He still works for the Ministry although not nearly as much. And then Oliver is just there like this houseguest that never leaves. Not that I mind him around, we could talk about Quidditch for hours but I'm continually confused about why he's even there. And why does he sleep in Percy's room?  
  
Well, I don't really have anything left to say today. Harry's back, and I'd much rather talk to him then some boring old book. 


	2. Second Entires

Title: Learning to Break Glass Butterflies  
Author: Indira Neill  
Pairings: lots of peoplexlots of other people, and even some people+different people  
Comment: Hell :D even if other people don't like this I sure as hell like writing these. POVs are fun like burning to a pyrophobic, or like the French to audi. "Canon" is like "Changes" a nice word that ultimately means very little.   
  
--  
  
Remus Lupin : Second Entry : Purity  
  
I realized after writing my first introduction that I had not supplied adequate information about those involved in the construction of this diary or their back histories. However, I do believe that by the time this diary is found by an outside reader the bare historical facts about several of those mentioned within its pages will be available in any history book. Well, not Sirius and I but certainly the Inner Core members. Of course they won't be referred to in any way as the Inner Core and those who know of its existence will deny it is real. That is what I hope to do with this diary on a personal note. Show the horrors of what the Inner Core are capable of, so what I sure to happen within the next several months will never happen again. None of these children deserve what it going to happen to them.   
  
Since my last entry I have also decided that you, the future reader, have a right to know what the Inner Core is possible of as I am not sure that after their awakening I will be able to write again.  
  
The Inner Core has the ability to 'purify' the world around them. They can return the earth to its initial state, a state of perfect harmony, a state where humanity doesn't exist. Earth will never be pure while humans exist to corrupt it. Long ago, several wizards and witches took it upon themselves to prepare the world for its rebirth. We have reached the generation of the rebirth. Voldemort is small potatoes compared to what these children are internally capable of. But the problem is they'll never quite understand. Which is why they can't know what they are. They'll think to the immediate future, that they can destroy Voldemort, and not the long-term effects.   
  
All they'll here is that they can purify the earth of all its trials and sins. They'll hear the good and be oblivious to the fact this has become our earth. We're not perfect as human beings, but we do the best we can. I have to believe that we do the best we can do. Humans can be horrible creatures but we are also capable of infinite kindness. Society is the corruption here, not man.   
  
The Second War as they are calling it is so inappropriately named. There is no first War, no second, there will be no third. As humans we have been fighting since conception and we will fight to our graves. Like every other species on this planet we fought to get to where we are today and we will not go down without a fight, we'll go down kicking and screaming.   
  
I am proud to be a human, I am proud of the animal I am.  
  
--  
  
Sirius Black : Second Entry : Woof  
  
I just love it when Remus babbles on and on in French. True I don't understand a bloody word he's saying but it just sounds so rushed and unkempt and right coming from his lips. He tries not to slip into French without noticing. He tries to control his tongue but that's why I love it when he can't. When he's speaking French I know he isn't watching what he's saying. And he doesn't need to. Who's going to understand him anyway? But he still blushes and apologizes afterwards, like its some sort of sin to be lost in emotion. I like to think he only speaks French to me, but he's not speaking to anyone at all.  
  
It's something that comes naturally to him, like breathing. It takes effort, even though he's lived his entire life in England, to remember to speak in English. It takes the full moon to remind him he's not just like everyone else. It'll take him a lifetime to understand that what makes him different makes him so uniquely him.  
  
Well, I suppose I should discuss a little about what I'm doing for the War effort. As I am still running around as an unregistered animagi I'm quite useful when it comes to surveillance. Peter's body was found last year and we have no reason to suspect he ever told Voldemort that I was an animagi and ever if he did chances are the run of the mill death eater still has no idea. So basically I spend a couple hours a day, and occasionally over night being the adorably fluffy creature I am and watching over the very bad men.  
  
When you've been through as much shit as I have, you try to keep in high spirits as much as possible because you understand how quickly it can all be taken away. I don't love the work I do, but I take pride in knowing that I'm helping bring down Voldemort, that James and Lily's deaths will be avenged.   
  
But you can't go through every second of every day thinking of nothing but revenge. If I were to do that I'd be no better then the death eaters. So I live my life, I don't abandon it for the sake of those lost. Those lost should not drag down the living but should be remembered by them. I will never forget James and Lily. Harry is living proof that we cannot forget the past. Every time I look at him I remember them. And I wish they were here to see their beautiful son. I want them to see the child they left behind and be as proud of him as I am.  
  
Remus is crouched over a number of parchments on his desk muttering away in French as always when he thinks no one is paying attention. Even if I were able to understand anything he says he's speaking too quickly for me to record it here. And it's nothing that's terribly important to anyone anyway. I don't know what it is he's working on. He doesn't know what it is I'm working on. That's the way this entire situation has been set up, no one knows what others know. We are each our own cell and we each know our little bit of information. We feed that information to an uncaring machine that will process it and spit it back out. This is to be our path to victory?  
  
Who are we kidding? There is no victory in war, no romance, not even tragedy. Only blind killing. This isn't a duel, this is mass carnage we're preparing for. The wizarding population is so small to begin with. Hogwarts only produces fifty or so newly trained wizards and witches a year. People don't seem to realize how small it really is. Don't they see killing a death eater is killing one of our own? There is no distinction. There is no distinction among the dead.  
  
They're all so fucking ready for this war. It's a battle that must be fought of course, but is it being fought for the right reasons? This isn't a war about defeating Voldemort. This must be the war to end war. We must prove that nothing is gained from war. I believe there are those who deserve to die. But even if death reaches out to them with the cold damp hands of war, how many bodies will litter their paths?  
  
We're all just begging for this war. All I'm begging for is a little attention from the love of my life. That he raise his pretty little head from his scrolls and put down his quill, but that he continue muttering in a language I don't know a word of but understand perfectly.  
  
--  
  
Percy Weasley : Second Entry : Boy  
  
Ginny and I are so much alike it scares me sometimes. I used to look into her eyes and see the same sort of misplaced ambitions I used to have. She wanted to do what was right even if she didn't fully understand the difference between wrong and right, even if she didn't see the other perspectives. But she's not like that anymore.  
  
When I look at her all I see is death now. When Mum...when she died I think she took Ginny with her. She really hasn't been the same since then. At first it was skipping family dinners because she was feeling 'sick' or 'too tired.' We were all taking Mum's passing hard. We let her be hoping that she would come around eventually.  
  
She didn't. She didn't and now it's killing me inside as well. Even for a witch she's lead a traumatic life thus far. The one topic we all know to avoid is the Chamber. We avoid it like the plague, not because she herself has ever shown a sign of not wishing to talk about it. But rather we don't want to know the answers to the questions. She opened the chamber, Tom Riddle's clever spell drained life from her. That's all we know, that's all we dare ask.  
  
I suppose it's her small frailty that I identify most with. Charlie and the twins are muscular and powerful, Bill and Ron are tall and slender, then Ginny and I are more delicate, frail. We have slender piano hands with stretched finger and perfect nails. We're light but in more of a skinny then a fit sort of way.   
  
She's sitting right in front of me on the floor as I sit on the couch and brush her beautiful hair. Her hair is a much deeper shade of red then mine, more akin to Bill's but her hair is shorter then his. Since Mum died she's been keeping her hair short. Shorter then even Ron's. It's like the twin's who never let their hair come in contact with their ears. She's not the sweet little girl I knew years ago.  
  
I'm fairly sure that she is unaware how much I know about her new personality sometimes. She thinks it's her little secret. As someone who lusted in silence for far too long I can tell when looks are more then just innocent. And I'm certainly not talking about Harry Potter. I don't know what she's ashamed of. For Merlin's sake, Oliver just moved in with me. What has she got to fear?  
  
"Percy, you know that gel that Fred and George use? Could we try some in my hair?"  
  
"Of course, Ginny."  
  
I can't say no to her. While I don't particularly like going through the twin's things it's not as if I have some moral objection to it. The blue bottle is sitting on their dresser. It looks like water in slow motion, like half frozen ice. When I return downstairs Ginny is looking at herself in the mirror Hermione gave her for Christmas last year. The one with the pretty brass handle and delicate butterflies sculpted into it. Her brown eyes twitch upwards to meet mine. Eyes are everything to a person.   
  
Ginny, Charlie, Ron and I all have brown eyes like our father, the twins and Bill have lighter ones. But each of us has our own distinct shade. I begin to work the gel through Ginny's hair. She just stares back at herself in that pretty little mirror, my pretty little Ginny. I spike up her hair like a teenaged Muggle boy, I know that's how she wanted it. A little smile plays across her unpainted lips. She's going out tonight with Hermione before she leaves again. Her pretty little lips lay a delicate kiss on my cheek and she runs up the stairs in her elfish manner.   
  
Upon hearing Ginny's distinct footsteps going up the staircase Oliver descends them a second or two after her door shuts and joins me on the couch. Without waiting more time he pulls me into his lap. It's like he can't stand a moment being in the same room as me and not touching me. His hands are always on me, he is such an exhibitionist. Maybe I am too.  
  
--  
  
Harry Potter : Second Entry : The Confession  
  
So I've put off telling Ron because I wanted to get the journal back first. I want all of this to be recorded. If he kills me, I want there to be a detailed record to convict him on. Of course I'm just joking about that last bit. He's my best friend and even if he did kill me I wouldn't want any harm to come to him. We're both lying on my bed at Remus' just, laying. Oh it's the best feeling in the world because we don't have to say anything, we just have to exist.   
  
Of course, this could bring the end to all this. I could be ruining our friendship forever but I have to tell him, I can't go on not knowing, him not knowing what I feel. If he rejects me, well fine, we can still be friends. He's not that immature that he would give up our friendship over this. At least I'm finally being honest with him.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Ron, I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Harry."  
  
God, that boy is clueless. Maybe I shouldn't be laying here with a dumb look on my face but the denseness of Ron amazes me sometimes. He's incredibly intelligent but sometimes he's just plain stupid.  
  
"No Ron...what I mean..."  
  
"You're my best mate, Harry, of course I love you!"  
  
Maybe it's just not worth the effort.  
  
--  
  
Hermione Granger : Second Entry : The Confession  
  
I really wasn't expecting the book back this quickly. Ginny told me she had it earlier today so having to have it go through Harry as well I wasn't expecting it until tomorrow. Of course, by tomorrow I would be in France and who knows if it would reach me there. Of course, only Professor Lupin knows how powerful the magic of this diary is.   
  
As I was not expecting the diary until at least tomorrow I have nothing prepared to record. But, I hate the idea of not finishing with it promptly so I suppose that I will record the simple event of having dinner with Ginny. She insisted it would be a wonderful event to record, so that the future would get a taste of normal culture of our time period. I do see the historical value of recording a simple but special meal. Perhaps the reader will get a good idea of the state of our world from this entry.   
  
Ginny wanted to go to a Muggle restaurant so I picked one out for us to go to. It's been a terribly long time since I last saw her. She's still keeping her hair boyishly short. It doesn't quite fit her but who am I to judge? I still picture her as that tiny, frail girl who unknowingly opened the Chamber, as Ron's little sister with the crush on Harry that just won't quit.   
  
We're just chattering about various things here and there. I must admit out of all her siblings she's the most natural among Muggles. The others look on in fascination while she just lets it all come to her. She doesn't obsess over the little things that go on. She exists in the Muggle world like she exists anywhere else.   
  
I wish she would get over her little crush on Harry though. But she doesn't mention him nearly as much as she used to she still blushes every time Harry and I come to visit Ron at the Burrow. While I'm being personal I could mention the fact I know Harry and Ron have intentions that are anything but innocent though I suspect I do not know the full extent of them. I take another sip from my glass. I no longer drink anything but water. Everything else lately makes me feel ill. My body is wearing out far faster then I would like. Just getting up in the morning is proving to be a challenge. My body and my mind just are no longer in agreement about how far we can push each other. The other day I dropped a glass.  
  
"Hermione, you will bring me back a gift from France, won't you?"  
  
There is a little blush on her cheeks and she looks genuinely flustered. Even as she grows older and changes her appearance she really is just a little girl still. I hope she can hold on to her innocence even after the War, naive, never, but always an Innocent.  
  
"Of course, Ginny. I wouldn't forget."  
  
It's so hard not to smile when you talk to Ginny. She seems to make everything brighter somehow. I wish she would grow her hair back out. She had such pretty straight hair. She meets my smile. I wish I were as strong as she is. I wish I wish I wish.  
  
"You had such pretty hair when it was long..."  
  
"I know, I hated it."  
  
Sometimes she's confusing. Maybe I heard it wrong, maybe not.   
  
"Did you really like it better when it was long, like a girl?"  
  
"It suited your face better, yes I think I liked it more then. You're pretty now too of course. But it's like you're trying to be someone you're not."  
  
"Maybe I will grow it back out then. If you liked it more that way."  
  
I just nod. How would one even respond to something like that? Generally I'm clever with words but the right ones simply do not come to me. I need to think before I can dare touch this book again.   
  
--  
  
Draco Malfoy : Second Entry : Deconstructing the Agitator  
  
Leave it to that dog to create a magic book that doesn't even function properly. I couldn't even open the bloody thing when I decided it was time to write my entry. As such it has made me fall behind the others, perhaps it was Potter's and his little Weasel boyfriend's plot to insure they would have the upper hand. I won't stand for it. They think they're so clever but I know the truth about them. And I will make them pay for cursing this book. But let us not dwell on that.   
  
When it comes right down to it. I'm really not the bad guy.  
  
I'm fighting the noble fight, to make the world safe for Wizards, safe from the intrusion of Muggle values on Wizarding culture. Some of the finest Wizards of our time have started believing in God. Oh, I know all about God. More then anything about Mudbloods, more then their inferior genes, then their compassion for the stock they came from, above all else I hate them for loving God. It's slipping into our vocabulary, into our minds, it needs to be torn out.  
  
Do you want to know why I hate God? I hate weakness. It's all part of 'God's plan.' Let us leave it up to 'God's will.' 'God bless us and keep us for we cannot help ourselves.' I hate it all. Silly children's fairytales. Silly. Muggle. Fairytales.  
  
Losing control of your own destiny. I hate it. The whole concept of being who you are and not being able to change it. I can't stand it. We're all in control of everything we do. There is no guiding light to tempt us off course. We control our destiny. No one, no one can take that away from us. I won't let anyone take that away from me. I'm not afraid of loosing control. Of course I'm not, because there is no God. It's a silly Muggle Fairytale. As a Wizard I can overcome it. I can overcome God, pound it into the ground with my intellect and my magic.   
  
Nothing can hurt me because I'm a pureblood. Even if God did exists, I am not its child. I am not subject to the rules of Heaven and Hell. I can charm my way right out of death until the last possible second, I will charm myself out of God's kingdom. I can fly above the winds of Heaven on my broomstick and defeat or conjure beings worse then any demon. God will never catch up to me. I can outrun it.   
  
I'm not scared.  
  
If the Mudbloods are eliminated, God will go with them. When I cornered Finnigan and saw that little gold chain around his neck, that bloody Half-blood, I tore it from him. I held on to the cross so tightly that it cut into the delicate skin of my hand. Droplets of my blood tainted its golden image. No, my pure blood was tainted by the poison of that trinket. It was like lead in my hand.  
  
That was when I decided that I would take Finnigan like I took his precious bauble. I would crush him in my hands like I crushed that sign of loyalty. The cross transfigured into a ribbon I tied it around his pale neck, marked him as my own with a silken green bow, like a present I had yet to open. But of course, I was never much for waiting until my birthday to receive my gifts. It was such a high taking him. I dare say he enjoyed it more then I did. Oh, I didn't enjoy fucking the bastard, no, I was in it for the power of it. He was mine. He still is mine. I've come up with a clever little spell, whenever that ribbon becomes entangled as part of him he knows what I plan for him.   
  
Perhaps one time when he is over I will be in possession of this book. If that ever is the case my generous nature would prohibit me from not sharing.  
  
Fucking him is like fucking God. God will not be able to judge me by the scope of my sins.  
  
--  
  
Virginia Weasley : Second Entry : Watch the World go Up in Flames  
  
The tragedy of our lives  
Falling to shards in the heavenly motions  
Waiting for an undead ghost  
Waiting for a terminating infinity  
You say you can't feel the pain of the world  
While it tears me apart  
My glass butterfly  
Don't ever leave that cocoon  
For I left long ago  
The powder flaking from my exposed wings  
Is slowly ripping me apart  
Stay concealed and strengthen your heart  
Being with you  
Hurts like stigmata.  
  
I wish I could have gotten this diary sooner. I missed you. But I don't want to write about what I did yesterday. Or rather what I didn't do. Hermione is going to marry Viktor, I just know it. I shouldn't want to stop her but I do. At least I want to think I have a chance. Of course I have a chance. I just have to take it.  
  
And I miss Tom. Writing to you makes me miss Tom. He was my first friend. Even though he made me do terrible things, he was my friend. My first, my only, my friend and my lover. He was like a lover, in a way. He made me feel like a million pieces.   
  
Burn the candle from the dynamite end  
Watch the world go up in flames  
Ash to ash, flame to mist  
Glass paperweight made of steel  
I cut my fingers on your edges  
But in the end you break yourself  
  
I don't love her, not by a long shot. But she's so terribly desirable. Her hair is untamable but I hate it when she tries to straighten it out. I love the way it's just wild and perfect. She's so calculating and cold sometimes but her hair is what makes her human.   
  
No I don't love her, I don't even like her all that much other then a friend. But she's so fucking desirable.  
  
--  
  
Ron Weasley : Second Entry : Connections  
  
You're probably all thinking that I'm a little dumb because I know Harry was recording when he told me that he loved me. I probably seemed pretty dumb there. But I knew what he meant. I really did. Obviously whatever it is he wants to tell me is pretty personal and important if he started out the conversation with "I love you Ron." I'm dying to know what it was he wanted to share with me. It's probably something earth shattering like he has cancer or he's taking on Voldemort alone or something. I don't really know. But I guess he lost his nerve or something because he didn't really say anything much after that. He just sort of sat there looking as dumb as I felt.   
  
I didn't want to pressure him in to saying anything he wasn't ready to say. He's my best mate and I know that I'll be the first person he tells no matter what it is. I'll know before Remus or Sirius or Dumbledore, he'll tell me first what it is that's troubling him or what he's planning on doing. He's always told me first.  
  
Now, I know it's not about a girl or something silly like that. Not unless he's trying to steal 'Mione away from Viktor or something like that. Not like I would terribly mind. Something about him, I still don't trust. He's a big hot shot pro Quidditch star. He could have any girl he would ever want. Not like Hermione is a bad choice, she's pretty and intelligent and polite and all that. She's just the kind of girl I would fall for if she weren't Hermione you know? You just don't fall in love with your best friends. I guess what I'm trying to say is if Viktor breaks Hermione's heart I will personally kick the shit out of him. No one messes with my friends.   
  
Well, I guess I would mind a little if Harry were in love with Hermione or something like that. Just because that would kind of make me the third wheel, right? It would be Harryandhermione or Hermioneandharry and then just Ron. But I think it's an unspoken rule that neither of us fancy Hermione. We wouldn't want anything to come between our friendship. It's the three of us against the world you know. It'll always be that way. It's Harryhermioneandron.  
  
So it's probably something about the War. I hope it's nothing that will put him in danger without me. If he's going to run the risk of getting it trouble or killed then I want to be right at his side like I've always been. As long as we're together nothing can touch us, you know? It's not like I'm his sidekick or anything, we're equals in this. Just he's Harry Potter who is famous for surviving as a baby, and now we're famous for fighting him in our own right. Sure, in the end it's Harry that wins the battle but I'm in it for the War too.   
  
I just hope he's not planning on doing any of it without me. 


End file.
